


Agent B

by Anne-Li (Anneli)



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8394169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneli/pseuds/Anne-Li
Summary: Agent B wants something really, really bad. He even dares to go up against Major von dem Eberbach to get it ...Imzy From Eroica With Love community October 15th Challenge 2016: "Agent B".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Telwoman and Heather for the speedy beta!

"Agent B, I have already turned down your application for time off! We have a very important mission coming up and this is no time to dawdle with a hobby better suited for pimple-faced boys!"

Agent B dropped his jaw, sucked in air and widened his eyes. After a three second pause he wailed: "It's not a hobby! It's my life!"

Major von dem Eberbach leaned over his desk – a rather intimidating sight. "That is absurd! You will not get the time off! Time off is for funerals and marriages, if you absolutely have to get married! Not for gallivanting off to foreign countries in pursuit of antiquated flammables!"

Agent B injected himself with the venom. "I will never get married! But I will go to America next month! See if I don't! I will – I will – I will!"

"You will not! It is a complete waste of time!"

He already felt himself heat up as the venom spread.

"It’s not! I went last year and it was the best two days of my life! I will go again this year! And next year too! You can't stop me! I'll quit!" He made a little jump to emphasize - and to make the venom circulate faster.

 "You are being unreasonable! You can't quit! You're a NATO agent and privy to international secrets! If you run off to America, I'll tell the Chief you're a double agent and hunt you down!"

He breathed in sharply. //The length I go to …// he thought mournfully. "Then I won't quit! I'll … I'll … I'll tell the Chief that I saw you kiss Lord Gloria!"

The major's eyes practically sparkled with a murderous rage. "That is a lie, Agent B!" he hissed and his voice could have made anyone with a sensitive bladder wet themselves.

  B promptly meeped.

Actually it was true: he had seen them. For a spy master, Major von dem Eberbach could be quite unobservant. Or, rather, B was quite good at being unobserved. After all, he had worked quite hard to make the major view him like part of the furniture.

"I don't care!" B wailed. "I will say it anyway!" Then he switched tactic for the grand finale. He pulled himself up to his full height and leaned forward a little, while keeping his eyes wide and breathing much too quickly. The venom made splotches of brightness explode in his vision. If this didn’t guilt the major into giving him the time off, nothing would. "You might find my life pursuit more suitable for adolescents, major, but I will not give it up! Never! I will go to America! I will go to Connecticut! I will visit the Phillumeny Con of 1983! Even if I have to lie to the Chief to get there!"

And just maybe he saw a hint of respect at his insistence bloom behind the Major's leaf green eyes. Or maybe that was just a hallucination brought on by the venom. Either way, that was when he fainted.

** ** **

The United States of America. Hartford, Connecticut. The Phillumeny Con of 1983. "To Light a Fire in the Heart of any Lover of Light!"

For as far as the eye could see:  matchboxes; matchbox labels, matchbooks, matchcovers, matchsafes … Everything and anything a phillumenist could dream of. There would be panels! Guest speakers from the British Matchbox Label and Bookmatch Society! Sales! Trades! Exhibits!

Too bad B actually had started to kind of loathe the stuff. Lighters were just so much more … efficient …

B's own collection was quite modest, mostly restaurant and airline matchbooks from his many travels with the Alphabet. Granted, this gave him a certain range not often achieved by phillumenists except by bartering. And after the other Alphabets had caught on (after he had dropped some rather heavy hints …) they had eagerly contributed. Lately there had even been a small, steady stream by way of G, which seemed to oddly coincidence with cities in which spectacular art crimes had recently been committed.

He perused the hall, a conference room to the hotel they stayed at, and made sure to gaze admiringly at the displays. Some were colourful and elegant enough that they might even draw some attention from a certain art criminal. B had also received a discrete invitation to, later in the evening, go to one of the hotel suites to view a collection of the slightly … risqué sort … which would not be on public display!

The next exhibit was of tobacco company matchbooks, the free advertisement kind. Behind the counter stood a man so mundane and grey you'd forget his exact features the moment you looked away; you'd only remember the grey and a hint of lemon. B leaned in over the quite extensive display, arranged neatly by company and year.

"Lovely," he said, then added "I like that one in particular," and pointed at random.

"It was quite difficult to find," the man behind the counter replied with a clipped, sour voice. "Here, have a free sample." A bowl was produced from under the counter and held out.

"Thank you kindly," B said and took the reddest one. "But I couldn't possibly without giving one in return." From a pocket he lifted the Eberbach one, at the same time carefully depositing the red one there. He placed the Eberbach one just as carefully in the bowl.

"Thank you," the grey man replied curtly – and sourly - and pushed the bowl back under the counter. "I hope to see you again next year."

"Absolutely," B said with a nod and continued.

With a despondent sigh he headed over to the Go-to-bed matchboxes exhibit. That, at least, looked remotely entertaining. If he had to look at another table of matchboxes he'd scream or start shooting. Well, not really ... Come 1984, he'd force Major von dem Eberbach to grant him another extended weekend vacation. Hopefully it would be easier next time.

He sighed again. //The length a double agent go to in order to exchange information with his handler ...//

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope I haven't messed up the Phillumeny thing completely. I'm a collector myself, though not in this particular subsection. I tried to research some and then added some details I needed from my own collections, so I hope it wasn't too badly. No disrespect intended in any way.
> 
> And the grey man is loosely based on one of the best spymasters in the world: Harold Smith. It's not really him, for reasons, but ... yeah.


End file.
